


Multitude

by smolder



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Fringe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis, Warehouse 13
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wishlist fics from over at TTH. Community-sourced inspiration for the holiday that somehow all turned out utterly non-seasonal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Time A Thing Happened (BtVS/SGA)

Title: That Time A Thing Happened  
Fandoms: BtVS/SGA  
A/N: For patriciatepes. The prompt was: Willow/Todd (nonShip), _“She didn't mean to summon him, as he wasn't quite a demon.”_  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Stargate belongs to Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner.

“So he’s kinda like a vampire?”

“That’s right.”

“A space vampire?”

“Correct.”

“But he’s a _good_ space vampire?”

“Indeed.”

Xander turned in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Buffy. “You,” he demanded, “are not going to date him.”

“Xander!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to-“

“No – just, no,” he threw his hands in the air dramatically. “No, no, no. Nadda, no. No more star-crossed – hey, that would even apply for real this time,” his face brightened momentarily as he was derailed by the thought but he shook it off and continued with his rant, “-horribly angsty romances with souled vampires. I don’t think I could take making this whole _thing_ of yours intergalactic, too,” he sighed dropping his arms and seeming to run out of energy.

“Hey - wait, ‘this whole thing’ of mine?” Buffy demanded scrunching up her nose. “What about you! What about – “

“Ahem, “ Giles interrupted cleaning his glasses before putting them back on and continuing, “while I am _sure_ we will go back to discussing your past…supernaturally based romantic encounters at a later date,” he rolled his eyes. “There is still the matter of the creature in question that Willow summoned.”

“By accident,” the redheaded witch that had previously been keeping quiet in the hopes no one would notice her muttered. She hadn’t meant to summon a space vampire. Honest. And at least this one was kinda nice.

But now all eyes were on her and as her nervousness built she blurted, “His name is Todd.”

“What?” Xander asked.

“The space vampire – Wraith,” she corrected herself. “His name is Todd.”

Their stares had become much more incredulous and her babbling kicked in.

“He’s not that bad and he’s actually formed alliances with humans before. Some military people – mainly this guy who gave him his name and I think had a thing for amusement parks.” At Giles’ raised eyebrow she explained, “When I asked if he needed anything, he asked if he could see a picture of a ferries wheel. Apparently this “Sheppard” was always talking about them.”

Xander gave her an exasperated look. “Did you show it to him?”

“It wasn’t _that_ much trouble to look up on my laptop,” she mumbled looking down at the table again.

“Wil-low,” she heard Buffy drag out her name but refused to look up.

“I didn’t mean to summon him,” she muttered kicking her feet under against her chair. “The spell was just supposed to locate that demon you ran into last week.”

“Of course;” Giles said making her look up out of sheer curiosity, “the Rayooth. If you say this creature is called a Wraith..”

“Yup, that sounds awful close to me, G-man,” Xander agreed, ignoring Giles wince at his nickname.

“So what do we do now? Do we kill it?” Buffy asked but she didn’t seem like she liked that idea very much.

“No!” Willow said. “We can’t kill Todd. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place, we – _I’ll_ just have to figure out have to get him home again.

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth a man in military garb walked into the library. Xander immediately stopped slouching in his chair, sat up straight, and seemed to barely stop himself from standing at attention and saluting.

After an awkward pause were the group and the man both seemed to be trying to size the other up and determine what the other was doing, Giles cleared his throat and asked, “Ah, can I help you?”

“Is your name Sheppard?” Willow blurted out excitedly before he could say anything.

The man looked at her and blinked for a moment in surprise before saying, "Ah- no. But I do know the guy. Extremely loyal . Crazy hair. No sense of self preservation. Loves ferris wheels."

And something in Willow relaxed. It was going to be ok. They weren’t going to hurt him. She pushed her chair out and stood up from the table. “Todd’s over here. We locked him in the book cage – he said he didn’t mind,” she assured the man.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second. You have the um…,” he stumbled over the word before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Crap. Who cares I’m a General now anyway. Alien. You locked the alien in a book cage?” he asked incredulously.

Willow just pulled down the floral patterned fabric sheets they had already had up for Oz anyway that had previously kept Todd from view. Surreptitiously, with a slight nod in the Watchers direction, she also picked up the stones that Giles had put in place to keep him from hearing their conversation. No need to spill those supernatural beans to the government.

“Hi, Todd,” she smiled at the tall figure giving him a little finger wave. “This is…” she paused awkwardly looking over at the other man.

“Jack,” he said appearing to be trying really hard not to laugh at the entire situation. “I’m Jack O’Neil.”

****

“Well,” Buffy said in a slightly dazed voice, when the alien and the General disappeared in a beam of light a short while later mid his spirited explanation of fishing. “That happened.”

“Yes, I believe it did,” Giles said as they all continued to stare.

“So,” Xander clapped his hands, breaking the tension. “Who wants pizza?”

But as the others started debating toppings Willow gazed at the empty space for a moment longer and whispered, “Goodbye, Todd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	2. Breathless (Fringe/HP)

Title: Breathless  
Fandoms: Fringe/HP  
A/N: For bloodied_saint. The prompt was: Harry/Olivia, _Having the weight of the world on your shoulders._ I'm happy with shippy or gen.  
Disclaimer: Post Book 7 HP. Post Season 3 Fringe. I own nothing. I own neither fandom. Harry Potter universe was created by J.K. Rowling. Fringe belongs to J. J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci.

Olivia broke away from the kiss with a smile; she held herself overtop him for a moment before dipping down. Playfully letting her forehead instead of her lips drag lightly along the middle of his chest towards his stomach – she chuckled slightly as her long loose hair tickling along his sides made him let out a strangled word.

“What?” Harry asked somewhere between breathless and nervous.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “You said Merlin,” she explained. “It’s still really weird to me that you even have different variations to your curses.”

He tried to laugh slightly but Olivia could tell that he was tense. She knew why of course – this was a new step for them but part of her didn’t fully understand it.

Because this – this was the easy part to Olivia.

She was good at her job, yes – but Olivia had always been bad in social situations. Cold and distant, she had often been called. She felt instantly suspicious of any interest paid to her and had trouble reaching out to people even when she wanted to.

So friendship. Dating. That was hard fought for, scary, and difficult.

But once she got here, Olivia felt utterly comfortable. She wasn’t sure if that said something about her, but she had long since thrown away attempting to psychoanalyze herself (in this area of her life at least). It really wasn’t worth it and she didn’t want to taint the fact that almost all of her best memories with John were in bed.

This sort of intimacy she could do though. Just following her instincts, skin against skin, warmth and pleasure. Being _playful_ , she supposed it could be called (although she had never been accused of that in any other part of her life). Exploring reactions both in herself and her partner – seeing when their breath caught, when their eyes went wide, or they stuttered out her name. There just weren’t really all of the missteps here that seemed to litter every other social interaction she found herself in.

Here she could be at ease with herself.

Harry didn’t seem to share her feelings. He was tense and jittery. Awkward and almost scared at times. He seemed constantly frightened that she would find a flaw in him. Something that would cause her to leave him. To simply get up out of bed and walk away. Walk out the door and out of his life.

What he didn’t seem to understand was that Olivia was with Harry right now because she wanted _him_. She felt connected to him, through this sense of understanding. Not many knew what it was like having to live with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Most never had to go through the moment of having your heart stop as you see a prophesy that was written about you (a face drawn on parchment long long long before you were born; eyes closed, supernaturally serene and unmistakably _you_ ).

Harry knew. He had lived through it and came out the other side – different but whole. Dying would do that she supposed.

When they found that her world had been tied to not one alternate reality but many, Harry had been among those sent to broker an agreement in the ‘Neutral Zone’ for his reality.

She never thought of herself as extremely empathetic but it was odd how much she could tell simply by the set of his shoulders, the tiredness in his face. The burden of expectation weighing down on him even though he had already done all that he had been foretold to do. A universe that continued to take (take, take, take), not seeming to understand when you had nothing left. Had _already_ given all you had to give.

Olivia wondered if he saw something in her as well across the almost sterile, scientific looking room. There had been two Olivia’s there after all, so it couldn’t be simply looks.

Or else perhaps he preferred blondes.

Whatever it was they talked and something about him filled this big gaping hole within her. Soothed her.

But to be the one with more experience was completely new to her - although she now began to understand the appeal many men seemed to find in it. It warmed her, the obvious trust he was handing her here.

She curled her body back up rubbing their chests together (savoring his sharply indrawn breath) as she went until her head was level with his again. Her hair made a curtain around them and she took note of the way his eyes darted to it before connecting with hers.

Olivia placed a hand gently on his face and kissed him, deepening it for only a moment before pulling away. “Are we alright?” she whispered.

Harry stared at her for a long moment and she wondered how he would react. If he would bluster and deny anything was bothering him, if he would look away and admit to something from his past that was troubling him now in the present, if he would simply kiss her again and try to ignore her question.

Instead of any of those things he reached up and curled a bit of her hair around his finger, smiling fondly as he released it again – watching it spin, before meeting her eyes and whispering back, “Yeah. I think we’re alright.”

Looking at him, feeling their bodies pressed completely together, Olivia did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	3. Same Old, Same Old (HP/BtVS)

Title: Same Old, Same Old  
Fandoms: HP/BtVS  
A/N: For kerravonsen. The prompt was: Neville Longbottom, Xander Harris, _When the Heroes are away, sometimes the sidekicks have to save the day._  
Disclaimer: Post Season 7 BTVS, Post Book 7 HP. I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon.

  
Neville looked at his opponent, down at the board, then back up again.

“You’re losing on purpose aren’t you?” he asked.

“What?” Xander asked his eye going ridiculously wide. “No. Of course not.” When Neville continued to just stare at him. He threw his hand up in the air before sinking back into the enormous comfortable leather chair, pouting. “Ok. Fine. I’m losing on purpose. But, come on. The only cool part about this game is when the pieces beat the shit out of each other,” he tried to reason.

“I thought that the Muggle version of chess didn’t move anyway?” Neville asked.

“It doesn’t,” Xander conceded. “And that’s why it’s a boring game. Played by boring people when they’re super bored,” he closed his eye and made a sound somewhere between a sigh, a whine, and a growl. “So maybe I _should_ be playing.”

Neville just watched his antics, vaguely amused.

Xander cracked open his one eye to look at him, scratching behind his patch absentmindedly. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to unload on you. I know you want to be out there too, with your bad-ass Oreo self, fighting instead of stuck here baby-sitting me.”

“Auror,” Neville corrected not the least bit offended.

Xander actually chuckled. “Oh, I know. But “oreo” was the closest wrong way to say it I could come up with that Buffy would still get. She seems to keep calling you all “auroras” too, which actually sounds kinda close. Every time she does it though I can see Willow scrunching up her nose wanting to give her a lecture about the Northern Lights. _I_ would actually much prefer to go much geekier with the reference but I don’t want only Andrew to get my joke,” he nodded to himself.

“More along the lines of “Ororo”?” Neville asked casually picking up his tea.

The man across from him sat up straight abruptly, his eyes excited. “Someone just earned some nerd points in the Book of Xander,” he said pointing and grinning absurdly. “How did you even know that? I thought all you Wizard-ly people didn’t do normal people things?” he asked.

Neville flushed at the oddly phrased praise. “Between living in a dorm with people who grew up in the Muggle World and then going more into it myself as I grew older – I, well I picked up a few things,” he explained. “I actually had a whole run of old Marvel comics dumped on me by a friend’s parent when I showed even the slightest bit of interest once,” he reminisced with a grin. Remembering the year he had been dragged along by Hermione (as a friend, of course – although she was probably angry with Ron about something at the time, she usually was those days) during an Easter holiday. The odd mixture of fondness and embarrassment she had had at the exuberance her Father had shown for passing on this undeniably geeky thing he loved to the younger generation

( _There was a tang of bitterness to this memory. When it had happened, watching them, he had felt this sharpness inside him. This feeling he had gotten before of – that, that is what it’s like to have parents. But now, now when he thinks about it, it hurts for a different reason. It hurts because he knows that now Hermione knew what it was like, got to experience that love, and now doesn’t have it anymore._ )

There was a crash on the roof interrupting any further conversation and making them both freeze instantly. Neville looked over to him and Xander slowly lowered his still pointing arm. Then there was a sound beside them – something between a slithering and a clicking, coming from inside the chimney of the banked fireplace. With unspoken agreement they both carefully got up and backed over to the other side of the room.

Because this – this was the reason. The reason that Xander was here and Neville had been assigned to guard him while the others went out hunting.

The snake-like head peaked out first; its nostrils flared then it turned and looked their way with blind, pupil-less dun yellow eyes. Neville fought down both a shiver at the creepiness of the creature and the anger that welled up inside him.

He really bloody hated snakes.

After a moment of testing its environment, the rest of its body emerged. Hundreds of razor sharp centipede like legs grabbed at his mantelpiece, making indentations as they went and knocking over knickknacks unheedingly, until its entire eleven foot length was mostly draped across the wood.

A _centpythos_.

They usually stay away from human civilization but a group of younger Slayers had accidentally disturbed a nest when out on a raid helping out the Ministry. There had been two. One had been killed off, the death blow brought about (while the Slayers leapt around, distracting) by none other than the man beside him.

This one had slithered away. They had thought they didn’t have to worry about it anymore. But after three subsequent barely thwarted attacks on the man, they found, through research, that centpythos _do_ stray away from their normal habitat for one reason.

Revenging their mate.

Xander let out a breath gustily beside him. “Didn’t remember the bastard being that big,” he stated matter of factly. “Or that ugly.”

“Bitch,” Neville corrected going automatically for his wand but nixing the idea just as quick. All reports indicated that magic simply bounced right off this thing.

“What?” Xander asked, laughing a bit crazily.

Neville flushed realizing what he had said. He cleared his throat slightly, “The scales along its stomach are brown, not the red of the males,” he indicated. “So…,”

“Yeah,” he said still looking far too amused given the situation and the imminent threat to his person. “I just never expect to hear your accent saying it. Part of me still thinks all English people are Giles. It kinda threw me for a second.”

“There are certainly worse people to be compared to,” Neville couldn’t help but grin. But that quickly left him as the centpythos started to descend from its perch.

“I thought the others were supposed to be hunting this thing?” Xander asked but it sounded more annoyed and rhetorical than anything else.

“It resists magic,” Neville gave the only explanation he knew, “it probably stopped showing up on their maps after a while.”

They both seemed to have the same idea, scanning the room for possible weapons. And although the room was lovely – his ancestral home being recently redecorated by Pansy to suit _his_ taste more than his Grandmothers’ now that she had been dead for quite a few years – fighting a giant centipede/snake creature was not one of the specification he had had in mind for the sitting room.

Perhaps if he lived through this he should remedy that. Pansy always seemed to enjoy a challenge these days.

Tired of waiting, the centpythos lunged at its prey. Xander leaped and rolled out of the way and almost automatically Neville pulled his wand out and threw a stunner at it.

Of course, the magic did not harm it. But, it did re-alert it to the other presence in the room. His mind worked quickly. He might not be able to hurt it directly with his magic but, indirectly perhaps?

With that though in mind, Neville levitated one of the heavy leather chairs they had been sitting in not long before and bashed the thing in the head with it.

It veered hard to the left and when it righted itself it was moving almost drunkenly while it got its footing (with its many many feet). Neville attempted to capitulate on the moment of weakness but when he tried to bring the chair down again it swerved out of the way and charged him.

He tried to somehow block the creature but it was too fast. Neville backed up quickly and fell, losing control of the chair and cursing himself for his clumsiness. It was almost upon him when he noticed Xander out of the corner of his eye, running his way too. Before the centpythos could charge into Neville, _Xander_ charged into the _centpythos_.

Clearly not expecting that type of attack, it seemed to almost shake itself for a moment, trying to regroup. Backing up and circling them confusedly, giving Neville time to get to his feet again. Its head turned in the direction of the noise immediately.

That was right, he remembered. Pupil-less eyes. Blind. Trying not to make any noise he levitated the chair again. Turning just his head, he made eye contact with Xander and tried to relay his plan as best as possible without words.

Xander seemed to understand instantly. Or else he was already planning the same thing. Either way, the man seemed quite ready and comfortable with playing bait.

Without warning Neville brought his arm down as hard as he could and smashed the chair into the things head again. As it started to hone in on him as it had before, Xander skipped – for some reason – skipped over to the other side of the room humming the Mission Impossible theme (thank you for once a month beer and explosion movie get togethers, Dean) and effectively distracting it.

As soon as the horrid looking head was turned he bashed it again.

And that was how they worked. Xander skipping around the room (and sometimes having to break out into a slight run when it got too close) humming and Neville using his magic to bludgeon the centipythos repeatedly in the head with the chair (he had to remember to thank Pansy for the wonderful craftsmanship) until its head was nothing but a bloody pulpy mess.

Breathing hard they both simply stared at it for a while before approaching. Xander kicked a bit of skull fragment.

“Sorry about your rug man,” he said sounding genuinely apologetic. “Brains can be a bitch to get out.”

Neville snorted amused.

Xander looked over at him. “What?” he asked. “They really can. There was this one time in Texas with these zombies and..,”

“No,” he shook his head. “Bitch,” he pointed to the centipythos and giggled in a way he knew was utterly juvenile.

But Xander’s lips twitched into a grin too and they both started laughing even though it wasn’t really funny and was much more just simply a release of stress than anything else. Neville thought he might have made a friend.

In his experience, killing giant evil snakes tended to bond people together after all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at LJ.


	4. Quake (BtVS/SGA)

Title: Quake  
Fandoms: Buffy/Stargate SGA  
A/N: For misse. The prompt was: Andrew/Rodney: _"I may be a, a, a geek, and really, okay, socially awkward, but you're just mean"_  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Stargate belongs to Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner.

  
“It was for science!”

“We were saving Atlantis!”

The whole group stared and Spike took a long drag of his cigarette before stating bluntly, “It looked an awful lot like you were snogging Doc Canada on a lab table.”

Andrew blushed brightly and fought not to glance over at Rodney and incriminate them even further. Although how that was possible after this morning he wasn’t sure.

***

"I may be a-a-a geek, and really, okay, socially awkward, but you're just _mean_ ," Andrew tilted his chin up a bit and narrowed his eyes at the other man who had been making his time here horrible. He knew that he could be a little - well, maybe a lot, annoying with all his questions. But really in this case he had a pass this time, right?

Who could blame him? Aliens! Spaceships! Intergalactic travel! _Atlantis_!

He could tell some of the others were a little exasperated (and he was pretty sure some of the things that one guy was whispering in Czech weren’t too complimentary) but Dr. McKay was the only one who was so flat out mean to him.

“Really?” the other man asked in a voice of utter incredulousness. “You’ve been following me around and pestering me with questions when I have actual _work_ I need to get done…”

“You could still be polite,” Andrew insisted. “The other scientist…”

“The other _scientist_ ,” he interrupted glaring hard, “took the first excuse they could to get out of the lab! You drove them away! And they aren’t as brilliant as me. They aren’t as important to this project running smoothly. At all,” he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Atlantis needs me. So, if your _feelings_ can handle it,” he sneered, “maybe I can finally get some work done. So at least _somebody_ does today.”

Andrew looked down and started shuffling towards the lab door. He glanced back once but Rodney wasn’t even looking in his direction anymore, he was typing furiously at his computer. So with a sigh he turned around and prepared to leave – maybe head over to the botany lab. They didn’t seem like the yelling type.

That’s when the room shook. Then it stopped.

Andrew hurried back over to the scientist’s side. “Whoah,” he said. “What was that, it felt like an earthquake.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Rodney snapped. He tapped his earpiece and cursed before continuing, “Seismic activity is possible on water of course – a grade schooler with any awareness knows that. But Atlantis wouldn’t have earthquakes unless…” his eyes went wide.

“Unless what?” Andrew asked watching him, utterly fascinated. He had been around lots of smart people before but he could have sworn that he could actually _see_ Rodney’s mind work.

“Unless the stabilizers are offline. But they were supposed to have been checked on for routine maintenance last week,” his face scrunched up in frustration. “Does nothing get done if I don’t do it?”

He looked up at Andrew and narrowed his eyes. “You,” he pointed and snapped his fingers. “You’re going to help me.”

“I am,” he asked lighting up.

“Do you _see_ anyone else?” Rodney huffed. “The coms are even down right now. That first quake must have knocked out-“

The room shook sending him to the floor and causing Rodney to clutch at a table. After it ended he grabbed a container with some tools and glared at Andrew who quickly scrambled off the ground.

“ _Come on_ ,” Rodney demanded.

That was how Andrew found himself following a scientist that had been very near cruel to him down various hallways, ignoring confused people yelling questions at the man, and grabbing at the walls every few minutes.

Soon they reached a non-descript room that seemed to be meant for science of some sort if Andrew could judge at first glance – there were tables, buttons and things anyway. But Rodney knew exactly what he was looking for and was impatient to get to it. Not really in the mood to let Andrew sight-see, he wasn’t sure if the man was ever the type to be in the sight-seeing mood.

There was a large panel that Rodney opened and after inspecting the interior cursed various personnel Andrew had just been introduced to that day. He had no idea why this was their fault but was honestly glad to not be the one the man was mad at this time. His job seemed to fall to handing Rodney tools and making sure the heavy metal panel didn’t fall onto their heads every time there was a tremor.

As close as Andrew could judge, Rodney had been tinkering with the thing for a little over ten minutes. In that time there were six quakes. And they were getting worse.

“Rodney?” he asked tentatively.

“Done,” the man said slamming the lid closed just as the largest quake yet hit, making them both loose there balance and pushing them across the room as Atlantis - the whole city - tilted.

....Right before there was an odd stuttering sound from somewhere in the distance like a ventilation system starting and then the whole place evened out again.

“Takes a second to start up again,” Rodney said, grinning almost sheepishly. The first humble expression Andrew had seen from him and it was utterly endearing. He had quite a close view of it as a well, from his position shoved not even an inch from the other man against one of the hard tables he had already noted in his quick perusal of the room.

And they _were_ right against each other – not a bit of space in between - breathing hard from adrenalin. He had just helped a brilliant scientist save (or at least keep safe) the lost city of Atlantis (in space!). His life really had become a movie or a comic book. Either way, there was only one thing left to do.

Andrew grabbed the sides of Rodney’s face and kissed him hard.

The prickly man breathed in sharply through his nose in surprise at first but after a moment he relaxed into it, quickly dominating the kiss –

“What was that about?” he asked when they broke apart for air, although since he was moving onto Andrew’s neck he didn’t seem to be too worried about the answer.

“You’re the hero,” was the only sensible part of his thought process he could moan around his mind turning to mush.

“Really?” Rodney asked looking up and appearing utterly delighted by the fact. Then his forehead scrunched up a bit. “Wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

Andrew huffed he usually didn’t mind talking but right now he wanted to get back to the kissing. He didn’t usually get the kissing.

“All this-“ he waved an arm around, “is practically a movie. And if this were a movie you’d be the hero that just saved the day. So. I kissed you. It seemed appropriate at the time,” he explained simply.

Rodney stared at him with sharp direct blue eyes for a long moment and Andrew started to get a bit nervous. But then a small amused smile appeared on Rodney’s face and he kissed him again.

It felt different this time - less rushed, sweeter. But that was able to shift into more. Andrew arched his back a bit pressing harder against Rodney, just mindlessly wanting to be closer. The other man let out a moan and grabbed at his hips.

He pulled away and Rodney frowned at him but Andrew grinned a bit and jumped up to sit on the edge of the lab table – it had previously been digging into his back. The scientist smiled at him almost predatorily and came forward again, his body between Andrew’s legs – and oh, he suddenly very very much liked this change in position. The hand in his hair was strong and solid and seemed to just make it all _more_ , Andrew wrapped his legs around Rodney’s waist bringing him as close as possible, grabbed the sides of his face and….

…of course that was when Dawn, Spike, Willow, Col. Sheppard, and that big dude Ronan all burst into the room frantically trying to find them and make sure they were alright since they hadn't had contact since the coms had been knocked out with the first quake.

***

And it all totally sucked he thought as he finally gave in and caught Rodney’s eye across the room. He was never the one who got the guy. Not to mention the super smart scientist hero who worked on a team with kick ass aliens in another galaxy.

The super smart scientist who grabbed his hair and made his toes curl.

He wasn't sure how his thoughts were effecting the look he was giving Rodney but the other man suddenly flushed too. But then he started grinning at him.

Huh. Maybe, maybe this all wouldn’t end in utter disappointment. Maybe sometimes the geek _could_ get the hero when the hero was a geek too.

Andrew grinned back and tried not to bounce in his chair.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	5. Pulse (HP/BtVS)

Title: Pulse  
Fandoms: BtVS/HP  
A/N: For mariegilbert59. The prompt was: Willow/Harry Potter, _"the dark I know well"_.  
Disclaimer: I own neither fandom. Willow and all of BTVS belong to Joss Whedon and the Harry Potter universe was created by J.K. Rowling.

  
 _Thump thump, thump thump._

She had recognized the darkness in him immediately.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Willow wanted to deny the fact; to claim that her initial attraction to Harry had simply been his personality. The bravery, strength, earnestness, and stubbornness that shone so brightly in him and reminded her so much of her friends.

But it hadn’t.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Long before he whispered to her under the covers late at night, confessing secrets against her skin, Willow had felt the darkness she knew all too well connected to this man. This “Boy Who Lived”.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

She had vowed to help then. Ran her fingers through his messy hair and murmured empty words of comfort.

(She shouldn’t have, she should have been aware of her limits. Took note of the way her control wavered and her hand shook, just a little, every time it passed over his forehead – over his scar - and gotten as far away from him as possible. For Harry’s own safety as much as hers. For the whole world’s safety, really.)

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Willow hated the man/creature even more (on top of the hell he had made of Harry’s life) for staging this huge battle at a school. Harry has graduated years ago and doing it here, now, seemed more to make a point than anything else.

And any mercy she might have felt for her opponents in this “Wizarding War” quickly leaves her when she sees how willing they are to terrorize and kill children simply because they do not have the “right” blood.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

She stares at Voldemort standing on the ridge, too far away to be hurt and protected by a force field of some sort, allowing his followers to decimate his opponents for him. Willow could practically feel the smugness rolling off him. Feel how pleased he was that everything was going as planned.

And the power – the very same power that made her hands tremble even in its distilled form back the first time her eyes met those of the man that now shared her bed. And she had felt that pull deep in a place she had hoped was shut off to her forever. She had tried to ignore it then.

No longer.

And poor Harry appears beside her suddenly out of the chaos - panting and clutching his wand as if summoned by the beginnings of her very very bad plan.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

She didn’t explain it to him. Willow simply turned to him, stared into his very green eyes for a moment, (the fact that she felt the pull yet again; just like the first time – just like every time, strengthening her resolve) and said, “This probably won’t work.”

Then she placed her hand on his forehead – and grabbed his arm, following his weight to the ground without breaking her connection when his body convulsed and he lost consciousness.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Willow didn’t even look or take much notice. She kept her eyes locked on the figure in the distance as she pulled the power through Harry.

As she drained Voldemort dry of all his magic.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Things started happening very quickly after that.

She couldn’t kill him - not permanently at least with the prophesy in play. But Willow had become well versed in twisting prophesies. And she could simply do one better anyway - make him what he despised the most. A human without any magic.

A squib. A muggle. She cared little for the proper terminology in this world. It didn’t matter really, didn’t change what she had made him - a mere weak powerless being.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Then there was the little matter of the Death Eaters.

And them – oh, there was nothing in the prophesy that said she couldn’t kill them. Willow smirked and a small giggle escaped her as she moved her black fathomless eyes away from Voldemort and onto the battlefield.

Without standing or even removing her hand from Harry’s forehead – without a word or a gesture of any kind, all movement stopped. Slowly, every Death Eater was pulled into the air by their right arm as if their Dark Mark was being attracted to a giant magnet in the sky. They rose higher and higher, over the elevation of the tallest spire of the castle.

Then abruptly as one she let them all drop.

The sounds their bodies made when they hit the ground was almost covered by the others’ screams of horror and surprise.

Almost, but not quite.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

With an odd sense of calm and detachment, Willow finally looked down at Harry. His hair was purely white in sharp contrast to the darkness of her own that swung foreword as she leaned over him. There was no darkness in Harry anymore. Then again, there was no darkness in Voldemort anymore either.

It was all in her.

She let her hand leave his forehead and trail down the side of his face gradually. Traversing slowly over the smooth skin of his temple and the roughness of the beginning of a five-o-clock shadow on his cheek until she reached his neck and felt for his pulse.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

Willow smiled and let her head fall forward heavily until their foreheads bumped together. She held this moment of peace for herself – ignoring the crying and screaming going on around her. Ignoring the darkness rolling inside of her. Ignoring the knowledge of what she had done.

Willow very purposefully held her whole self still, kept her fingers on his pulse, and waited for Harry to wake up.

Then she would decide what would happen next.

 _Thump thump, thump thump._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	6. Contained (BtVS/Warehouse 13)

Title: Contained  
Fandoms: BtVS/Warehouse 13  
A/N: For lolaann1. The prompt was: Willow, Claudia & Artie / _Willow accidentally trapped (choose your own Buffy/Angel character) in a cursed jack-in-the-box. She needs to free him/her, but unfortunately those Warehouse 13 guys snagged the object and stored it away in the warehouse. Guess she'll have to make a visit._  
Disclaimer: Post Season 7 BTVS, any Warehouse 13. I own nothing. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Warehouse 13 belongs to Jack Kenny and David Simkins.

“Willow?” the body she was pressed tightly against asked as soon as she teleported into the dark small box.

“Shh!” she hissed at him before pausing. “Wait, how did you know it was me?”

“You’re kidding, right,” Xander said whispering this time. “Taking away the fact that you magic-ed your way into this thing with me, we’ve snuggled and shared a bed since before grade school. I’d know your body anywhere.” There was a slightly awkward pause. “That sounded much creepier out loud than it did in my head,” he said rather bemusedly.

“It sounded kinda sweet too,” she assured him. “Creepy, yeah, but sweet.”

“Aww, Will-ster,” he hugged her even closer to him. “You’re almost going to make me forget that it’s all your fault that I’m shrunk down and stuck in a jack-in-a-box in the first place.”

“How was I supposed to know it was cursed?” she whined, keeping her arms around him and propping her chin on his shoulder. It was simply a more reasonable position in this enclosed space – plus her Xander-shaped friend was incredibly comfy.

“It was old, creepy looking, and you bought it from a sketchy antiques dealer,” Xander snorted into her hair, sounding more amused than actually angry.

“I thought it would make a good gift,” Willow tried to defend feebly. “It didn’t _feel_ cursed. It must have been one of those things that’s activated when you use it or something. But I should of still felt it…,” she trailed off mumbling.

“Or it wasn’t magic,” he suggested and at her sound of questioning he elaborated. “Those people who have been dealing with this thing - carrying the box around without realizing the Xand-man was getting an unwanted free-ride, seem to be like government but….totally not somehow.”

“Why don’t you just vague it up for me some more, Xander,” Willow snorted.

“Hey now missy, don’t forget who’s the one who gave the gift that ate it’s recipient,” he shook his finger at her which only partially worked in the dark because he accidently poked her once.

When he could practically hear her pouting again he continued. “And I don’t think they really know about magic. Our type of magic anyway. They seem to treat this all as a sort of science. Or as if everything else is a science and this stuff is just an unknown to be contained,” he finished.

“ _Contained_ ,” she said and he could feel her shiver slightly against him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Then maybe we should skedaddle,” Xander suggested. “I’m all for the Willow-hugs, but maybe we could hold off until after the rescue is ov-,”

Before he could finish his sentence an eerie, familiar, music started, so loud that it seemed to pulsate through them. Willow couldn’t concentrate - couldn’t think - and wasn’t prepared to fight against it. A moment later there was light – sudden and sharp against their eyes. And then they were being propelled upwards forcefully from a spring below them. As they sailed through the air their bodies stretched and grew back to their normal size.

They hit the ground hard. One on top of the other.

There was a long pause.

Willow gave a cough. “Does the fact that you fell on top of me start to make up for things?” she asked.

Xander pushed himself off her and gave her a hand up and seemed to think it over. “You know, it kinda _does_. That was a really shitty fall and it's common knowledge that I bruise like a peach.”

Willow just punched him in the shoulder and giggled before leaning against him; Xander smiled and put an arm around her.

“I knew it,” a voice said across the hall from them. “I _knew_ it. I would say I told you so,” an incredibly pleased sounding red head with a neon green stripe in her hair crossed her arm and smirked at the older man with her, “but that might be too much. It _would_ be too much, right? You said I was crazy though, when I told you I heard voice coming from our new artifact – but I know crazy time and this totally wasn’t it. And-”

“Claudia,” the man interrupted, still holding the jack-in-the-box, never having taken his eyes off of Willow and Xander. “We have a problem here.”

“Oh,” she seemed startled for a second before she turned to stare too, her face became almost comically serious. “Yes. Right. But,” she looked at him again, “I was so rig-,”

“Claudia,” he cut her off again.

“Of course,” Claudia said. “The people. People here. Here in the Warehouse. A place where they aren’t supposed to be,” her eyes went wide. “Oh, god, Artie. We have a problem.”

Xander and Willow watched them. “Huh,” Willow tilted her head a bit. “I see what you meant,” she told Xander.

“Meant by what,” Artie asked narrowing his eyes and setting down the jack-in-the box slowly.

She looked Xander in the eye. “Government but _totally_ not,” she repeated and he just smiled at her.

“Shit, shit, shit, Artie,” Claudia whispered.

“Well,” Xander said smacking his hands together and smiling widely. “We’ve obviously worn out our welcome so I suppose we should be going now.”

“Ah,” Artie smiled awkwardly, “perhaps you should come with us and…,”

“I think your right, Xander,” Willow said cheerily as if Artie hadn’t spoken. “Plus, I rather not find out the truth of the second thing you said,” her smile wavered.

“Bye, now,” Xander said waving energetically (and maybe a bit intentionally obnoxiously) and Willow gave a little finger wave as well right before they popped away.

Artie dashed forward as soon as they disappeared, looking around at the space they had just been in. Searching for clues. After awhile he simply made a frustrated sound and ran a hand through his thick curly hair.

Claudia stood nearby; she had her hands in her pockets, rocking on the balls of her feet, and was trying really hard to stay quiet.

“Yes, Claudia,” Artie said in a frustrated tone. “You were right.”

She squealed dashed forward and hugged him before running away, yelling over her shoulder down the hallway, “I’ll check the security cameras and search for them in our databases and on the net.”

Artie shook his head fighting down a grin at her behavior.

He really hoped this wasn’t the Council. It always ended up being a real pain in the ass for everyone involved when the Warehouse crossed paths with them.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ)). Hope you enjoy them.


	7. Going Down (BtVS/HP)

Title: Going Down  
Fandoms: BtVS/HP  
A/N: For christywild. The prompt was: Faith/Snape, AU obviously- cavein, death eater hunt, hurt/comfort...they get caught, have to get out- can be already a couple or not.  
Disclaimer: I own neither fandom. BTVS belong to Joss Whedon and the Harry Potter universe was created by J.K. Rowling.

  
As soon as the Death Eater on patrol passed by their hiding space Faith started counting in her head. Once she got to ten she hissed, “Now.”

She wasn’t gentle with him as she pulled her companion up by the arm from his crouched position beside her and headlong down the steep side of the mountain. The footing was horrible and she wouldn’t have been able to keep her balance _and_ support the majority of both of their weight, due to his injuries, if it wasn’t for all the extras she got from her Slayer-ness.

He didn’t complain though – she had to give him that. He looked like shit, and probably felt like it too, but he knew they had to keep quiet if they were going to get out of here. Poor bastard had been stuck - a discovered spy being tortured for information or simply as an example for a while and probably thought this was his only chance at escape.

Little did he know that the fucking Council was on this shit now and she was only their first go at it. She was only meant to be recon actually, but plans usually didn’t groove with her style (they didn’t tend to stick too well with any of the Scooby gang, really) and none of them would fault her for yanking him out when she saw a chance.

Her muscles tensed giving her milliseconds warning to push them both down causing a beam of light – a beam of magic – to narrowly miss them.

“Well, shit,” Faith said eyeing the slightly smoking area where it had hit.

“Yes. Quite,” the man beside her coughed harshly. “It seems that my former torturers have tired of my company." At her questioning look he elaborated, "That wasn't a stunner, they aren't even attempting to re-capture me."

Faith laughed crazily pushing herself off the ground, “Well then Sev, let’s split this joint before we get fried. Don’t know about you but I’d rather not be magical BBQ.”

He snorted, “You know I hate it when you call me that, Faith,” he said in a monotone but allowed her to help him up and pull him around the edge of the nearby rock face.

“Sorry it took so long to get you,” she kept talking as she eyed the darkness for someone else in those stupid black cloaks and white masks trying to sneak up on them. Mainly the masks, easier targets. “We kept asking but no one would tell us anything. Those Phoenix people were saying that you were on some secret mission. Dumbles kept trying to tell us not to worry but-“

She cut off abruptly seeing a flash of something, a shimmer where there shouldn’t be. She pulled a knife out of her boot and threw it, working purely on instinct. There was a screech of pain and a person became visible clutching their shoulder and falling to the ground.

“Stupid magic,” Faith muttered.

“Why thank you,” Snape muttered but then sighed and rolled his eyes. “It _was_ a poor Disillusionment Charm though.”

“Sorry, Sev, but seriously. I’m not trying to shit on your world – well, maybe a little because even _you’ve_ got to admit you’re society is majorly fucked up. But I’ve been around magic for most of my life now and your sort magic just seems to be largely a pain in the ass,” Faith said.

“Usually I would argue with you,” he coughed hard and long, leaning back against the rocks for a second to close his eyes when he was finished. “But seeing as I’ve just had my wand broken and been magically tortured for what felt like weeks-“

“It was,” Faith assured him helpfully.

“Thank you,” he glared but there was little heat behind it. “But given our current predicament, it is difficult to mount a rousing defense for my entire people and way of life.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Faith bumped him gently with her shoulder.

Snape snorted again and slanted his eyes over, but his lips curled up slightly on one side into a rare fond smirk. “You honestly think we will be alive long enough for that?” he asked.

“Hell,” Faith grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the mountain again, pretending she didn’t hear his hiss of pain (she knew how much Severus’ pride meant to him) but subtly gentling her grip as much as possible, “I was only supposed to be reconnaissance. If I don’t check in before sunrise they’ll send in a whole group after us. So, if everything goes to shit, someone will at least find our bodies and revenge us,” she ended cheerily.

“Now there’s a comforting thought,” he responded dryly.

“And anyway, we _have_ to stay alive. I want to hear that _rousing_ defense of yours,” she wriggled her eyebrows at him and took that next cough as at least partially a laugh.

And together they continued their way down.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	8. Transference (BtVS/Angel/SGA)

Title: Transference  
Fandoms: BtVS(/Angel)/Stargate SGA  
A/N: For sulien77. The prompt was: _Willow needs to consult with Lorne about Pylea but doesn't know how to contact him, so she summons herself to him, only to wind up in an Ancient lab on a planet in the Pegasus Galaxy with Major Evan Lorne and his team, who are out on a mission with Dr. Rodney McKay (Sheppard is down with an injury)._  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Stargate belongs to Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner.

  
There were traces left in the alley.

Angel. Easily recognizable – connected to her like a harp string. Thin but strong and pulled taunt, so taunt, that if you ran your finger over it, it resonated deep, thrumming, and ethereal.

Spike. Bright and sharp. That hadn’t changed. Honestly, he had been that way even before his soul she just hadn’t been able to see it then. Bright and sharp.

Gunn. Warm and determined. She had only met him once but she remembered getting that impression as soon as she shook his hand and looked into his eyes. But he had been burning through the last of that determination quickly here, bleeding out all over the ground even as he continued to fight.

And something else. Deep, vengeful,….and blue? Ah, blue. Illyria. The Old One.

…..Willow removed her hands from the concrete and stood slowly, brushing the dirt from her palms on her jeans absentmindedly. Shaking off her magical vision at the same time.

None of this really told her what she wanted to know. The fact that they had been here, didn’t help her – she had already _known_ that after all.

 _Already known_ that she was too late to do them any good.

And the only one who could possibly fill in the blanks, help her figure out what had happened in this alleyway and where they were now, was eluding her.

She could sense that he was alive but she couldn’t quite get a feel of _where_. And when she stretched her senses, it felt far – too far really, but she really couldn’t get a secure lock on it. But Willow didn’t possess the self-importance that she had in her youth (that had been beaten out of her by multiple mistakes that had cost _way_ too much in the long run) – she knew that Lorne had connections _deep_ within the demon world. If he wanted to disappear in a way that no one would _ever_ be able to find him, that could trick even her magic, he could probably find a way.

But that didn’t help her now. Now that Angel, Spike, Gunn, and Illyria had somehow disappeared with an entire opposing Wolf Ram and Hart army. Now that Wesley had died, Fred had been taken over, and Cordy had woken from a coma only to die so soon after.

(Now that the Council was so quiet - weighted down by collective guilt – broken only by Dawn’s occasional crying, glaring defiantly through her tears at anyone who dares to stare at her.)

So, when she sends out her magic to search for Lorne, he feels distant. And Willow knows it dangerous to simply send herself to an unknown place, into an unknown situation….

…but she _needs_ to do _something_. They all need some answers.

(For Buffy. So she will stop waiting until she gets into the shower to break down every night – crying for Angel, crying for Spike, both? Willow’s really not sure. She’s not really sure if Buffy is either.

For Xander. Who locked himself in his woodshed and started carving (beautiful beautiful things) and refusing to talk to anyone. He might have had his problems with Angel and Spike but he would never never have wanted them to face an apocalypse alone. And as for what happened to Cordelia……

For Faith. Who simply left for three days when the news broke and with the level her anger was still at when she came back……that was probably a good thing for everyone.

Giles…..Willow has avoided Giles. They all have as far as she can tell. She doesn’t know what to think. She understands that he is human. Understands the bad blood between Angelus and him. The horrible, unimaginable ( _except Giles doesn’t have to imagine because he must still see Jenny sometimes when he closes his eyes. Artfully arranged on his bed, surrounded by rose petals, and neck broken. It is something she recognizes in him. Someone else who had that horrifying moment of realization, some else who held their lover's body when there was no longer any life in it._ ) things the vampire did specifically to him when he lost his soul. She can understand how that can lead to mistrust and pettiness. Hell, Willow can understand more than most that dark burning need for revenge deep deep inside. Powerful and persuasive.

But…he made the decision not to trust the AI Gang for all of them without letting them know. And not only all of them as a group, _specifically_ her. Angel had called _for her_ , asking for _her help_ to save Fred. And Giles…Giles had turned him down. Lied about where she was.

She knows she will forgive him eventually (they have all done terrible things – and to each other – over the years) but it will take a while. And that trust, that trust that everyone had in Giles has been dented.)

Willow wants her family back.

She gathers her magic and…..

....appears somewhere surrounded by foliage and shooting. Lots and lots of shooting. Instantly she throws up a shield around herself. Not only to protect herself from flying bullets but from the noise that threatens to deafen her.

Willow still hates guns. It is something she has worked on quietly over the years, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Because honestly, her intense aversion was a huge disadvantage in the field - something that could be exploited. The way someone bringing out a firearm could cause her to instantly become magically defensive to the point of being a hair-trigger away from Dark Willow.

 _So_ not of the good.

She traveled with Xander for a while and they made their way around the harder to reach places gathering Slayers. They both carried guns (it might not be exactly polite, but in many places simply the knowledge the you had a weapon would keep some people from bothering you) and allowed her magic to only be their, worst-case-scenario, backup.

At first it felt bad. Heavy, metallic, dirty, and foreign to her. She became physically ill a few times while Xander was teaching her to shoot. But then Xander hit upon the idea of giving her not only the instruction manual but the specs and a book detailing the entire history of the beretta that was her companion.

And somehow in learning about its past, in figuring out how to take it apart and put it back together, it became less scary to her. Less of this terrible thing that had taken away the most precious thing in her world and it became…..more of a tool that was sometimes used by bad people.

Her best-est of best friends was a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for.

None of this meant, however that when she appeared in an unknown location in the middle of a gun fight she wasn’t going to protect herself. Especially when the thing they seemed to be shooting at was some bizarre looking pale humanoid demon that was giving off vibes that made her skin craw.

Hungry, angry sorta vibes. And there was a sorta feel to him…(it? She would go with him. The thing looked male anyway.) that reminded her of vampires.

Noticing her standing separate and completely unprotected, from whoever was hidden and shooting, it came straight towards her. Someone was yelling at her but it was muffled through her bubble. Willow waited with absolute calm as the creature came towards her.

Suddenly something ran into her shield from the right and she looked over in surprise. The pale bondage creature looked over too. Some guy in military clothing (Xander would probably know much more about it, just by looking at different insignias – although even they looked odd - but Willow had never had reason to learn any of that stuff) was now standing back and rubbing his chest looking at Willow with wide eyes. Apparently he had valiantly tried to tackle her out of the way, not realizing that the only reason she was standing here so calmly was that she was sheltered.

Willow raised an eyebrow and at him and he sorta shrugged sheepishly. But her eyes widened suddenly as they caught the name on his jacket.

Lorne.

Before her brain could let the implications of this sink in. The creature decided to go for the prey that was more easily available to it. Moving faster than she had thought it could from it’s bizarre, unmanageable looking, lanky frame, it was ontop of him. A hand on his chest – pulling, sucking his life force.

The familiarity of the action, the parallels, made Willow freeze for half a second.

And then her shield was down. She didn’t care if she was shot. She didn’t care if this wasn’t the Lorne she was looking for.

She wasn’t going to be too fucking late to do any good this time.

Willow magically shoved the thing off of him. She pushed it to the ground, keeping it still and on it’s back with force of her will. She placed her hands on it’s chest like claws.

Her fingers sunk _in._

She didn’t want to do this. She knew how to do this, yes. Too well. Too _too_ well. She’d done it before – taken things from people. Magic, memories, life force. She didn’t want to be that anymore, just- just _didn’t want that_. But this thing had taken some of _that_ Lorne’s life. It was _his_. And damn it all if he wasn’t getting it back.

The thing looked at her, straining. Still so hungry and it’s eyes were just filled with equal parts disbelief and hate for her.

She pulled.

And they both screamed.

Goddess. It felt wrong, she had to sort through so many different pieces, different bits of soul that had been pulled from people over the years. So many _fed_ upon on so many worlds. And he was connected to others as well. all linked through a queen.

With a physical shove she pulled herself mentally out and pushed away from him. In her right hand was a small glowing green ball. Mostly controlled and contained, with slight sparks and fluctuations of color.

Green. Lorne’s life force was green. She really couldn’t stand the irony. The PTB had to be screwing with her.

However horrible it had been for her, the entire situation with the Wratih – that is what they were referred to as she now knew – had lasted less than a minute. Lorne was still panting on the ground and his comrades were only just starting to approach.

Before anyone could object she half sidled, half crawled the short ways over to him and shoved the green energy into his chest.

His back arched and he breathed in sharply. When he settled she said, “As close as I can tell you owe me about two and a half years. But how about you stop shooting at me. Perhaps some nice coffee sometime, maybe a cookie or two, and we’ll call it even,” she giggled slightly at the way he was staring, gave him a wink, and then turned back to her captive.

And she summoned a fireball and burned the fucking Wraith.

Xander sometimes told her she had a tendency towards dramatics with her magic when she was angry. She usually shot back that he had a tendency towards dramatics when he had explosives or any large weaponry.

They both agreed that the other had a very valid point.

And it seemed that, similar to vampires, being immortal did not protect Wraith’s from being very very flammable.

She watched it burn dispassionately. A quick, hot fire more blues, purples, and white to it then oranges or reds.

She kept it contained to the one area, she didn’t move her eyes (not even when when she heard the click of guns cocking) until it was nothing more than ashes.

Then she turned her head, still ignoring the men pointing guns at her to look at Lorne – Evan she supposed she should call him. She knew him so well now after all. (Willow fought down a giggle at the thought.)

When she had pushed down her amusement at her own internal thought process, Willow sighed and said to him, “I thought we had talked about this.”

But Lorne wasn’t looking at her his gaze was directed upwards at his men (because he was the commanding officer out here in the field, after all) and said with a calm authority, “Put them away.”

Only one person didn’t do so immediately. Everyone turned to look at him.

Willow raised her eyebrow at the man when their gazes caught. She knew her position on the ground might not be too intimidating but they were all probably still pretty twitchy from seeing what she had just done.

“Hey, no,” he shook his head stubbornly. “Just because you tell me to put my gun away doesn’t mean I _should_. Don’t you _know_ how many times this sort of situation has ended badly? Just because she killed that Wraith doesn’t mean she’s _good_ it just means she's dangerous. I mean - “ he started to backpeddle slightly at the others’ looks, “it’s not that I want Lorne to die. He’s one of the few personnel that we have that seems to actually have a brain and be competent at their job. But she could still very well be a bad guy and I’m not going to-“

Willow gave an annoyed sigh and with a wave of her hand disarmed him letting the gun come to floatingly rest at Lorne’s side.

The man gave a start and his eyes were wide for a prolonged moment before he squinted again. “Fine,” he said crossing his arms petulantly.

Ignoring him she reached out and patted Evan’s knee. “Don’t worry, she told him. “Once I find the Lorne I was looking for and get the whole group back together I’ll tell them all about this and we’ll bring you all some back up.” Willow sighed, “I’m really sorry I can’t stay and help. It’s just - one crisis at a time, you know.” She smiled tiredly.

Lorne reached out and covered her hand on his knee, squeezing it slightly.

“Thank you,” he said simply and genuinely, meeting her eyes.

Willow gave a start, actually flinching away from him as her guilt flooded back, hitting her hard and sudden. “Oh, oh,” she said floundered, absolutely flustered. “Um, your welcome?” she said like it was a question, just wanting to get away now but not wanting to take it out on him.

Quickly, she scrambled to her feet. “Places to go then and people to find and…..”

She paused awkwardly, gave a jerky wave and disappeared as suddenly and abruptly as she had appeared.

“I’m going with flighty Ancient on the reports for this one,” Rodney said breaking the silence.

They all turned to look at him and he tensed up defensively. “What? I know she didn’t exactly fit most of the behavioral patterns _or_ patterns of normal usage of powers we have for Ancients on record but do you _really_ think the people who eventually get our reports in DC is going to buy _that_ ,” he waved his hand indicating Lorne and the left over ashes of the Wraith.

The others muttered their consent and started to gather their things for the trek back to the Stargate.

“Sheppard is going to love this,” Rodney continued as he shouldered his pack. “Usually this level of crazy is reserved for his anime-hairness.”

“Yeah. Guess you’re the lucky one when the CO is laid up, Lorne” Parrish joked.

“Yeah, lucky,” Evan Lorne said and couldn’t help but rub his chest that still felt warm where years of his life had been returned to him by a red-headed woman. Green energy burning through his body.

He had felt it – felt her – in the transference.

Willow. Her name was Willow.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I will be posting the rest of the fics here throughout December, as they are posted at Wishlist (LJ). Hope you enjoy them.


	9. Second Cup (BtVS/AtS)

Title: Second Cup

Fandoms: BtVS/AtS

A/N: For jaq_of_spades. The prompt was: _"she's scared he's looking for a girl, and she's a woman, scarred by life and living."_

Disclaimer: I own nothing. BtVS & AtS belong to Joss Whedon.

 

He looks the same. She should of been expecting that - he is a vampire after all - but instead it is the first thing that hits her when she sees him across the room as she enters Council HQ; jarring and comforting at the same time. He looks exactly the same - leather coat, spikey hair and all.

 

It scares her (a wave of anxiety she quickly pushes down with a tight smile) to think that when he turns his head and sees her he might still be looking for that girl he first met in that Sunnydale alleyway. She knows quite well he won't find that Buffy in her. Because he might be perpetually unchanging but she isn't. She has grown so accustomed to change since becoming a Slayer it has become one of her only constants. It has made her stronger.

 

It is that strength that lets her walk right past his stunned expression and down the hall to Giles' office to report to him about her latest mission. She had been told, even as she had been preparing to leave for Iceland, that he would most likely arrive while she was gone but demonic uprising waits for no gal (well at least no Chosen gal). And even after she talks to her Watcher she still has to hit the Communications Center and give the wizard on duty the information about the cult that had worked in conjunction with the demons so he can send a message out to all of their merry band of Slayers, Watchers, and various other people and creatures around the world (and their few off world and trans-dimensional members) to be on the look out.

 

It is over two hours later before she catches up with him again - this time in the Council library. He is sitting with his back to her paging through on of their many ancient tomes but as soon as she enters he looks up, his demon sensing her Slayer. The nostalgia threatens to drown her, swallow her whole. The setting, the way he looks, the way he feels to her senses, the warmth in his eyes.

 

The only thing different is her. She silently grabs a hold of her differences like a life raft. She _is_ different now and that is good. The little girl she used be has been tested by life and become stronger to survive her present.

 

And she is stronger - much stronger than she was in high school (mentally and emotionally but _very_ much physically too. So much so that the very Slayer part of herself itches to spar with him. Wonders if he'd be surprised by the way she fights now, if he'd be able to adjust). But it isn't just her, all of the Scoobies have been doing this for most of their lives and are now a combination of adaptable, powerful, confident and just terrifyingly competent (not to mention world weary beyond belief) that scares many (often - though not definitely not always - without meaning to). They are an organization now, a _school_ , responsible for over a thousand young girls. They had to change the small scale way they did things in order to survive - in order to take responsibility for what they created that day, to support and care for the new Slayers and not be (to never be) the old Council.

 

And Angel, she loves him (she is pretty sure she never stopped - isn't sure she ever learned how to stop loving _anyone_. Still loved him when he was rampaging as Angelus despite how much the demon made sure that hurt. Thinks she still loves Spike too), but he wasn't there for any of that. He was off living his life while she was here living hers.

 

That is what finally pushes her to stop staring and walk across the room to him. She puts her hand forward to shake. "Hi, I'm Buffy," she says with a smile, not bright and sunny like she always gave him over the stacks once upon a time on the Hellmouth, but instead tired but hopeful like she was now.

 

It takes him a moment to catch on (and probably ascertain for himself that this was her making a random decision to start over and not a mystical memory loss) but finally, still looking a bit confused but willing to play along, he took her hand simply saying, "Angel."

 

"Well, Mr. Angel," she shakes his hand firmly feeling oddly light and pleased with herself, "would you like to go out for coffee with me?"

 

And his face clears of confusion and he smiles in remembrance of last time she asked him, but unlike last time, he looks at her intently and says, "I'd love to."

 


End file.
